


A History of Love (yuletide kisses)

by AvaRosier



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Bughead Secret Santa, F/M, Oh No We Must Bang For The Mission, Pretend marriage, Undercover Aurors Betty and Jughead, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21984826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: Aurors Betty and Jughead have to go undercover at the Stonewall Academy of Magical Studies as a married couple.As far as missions went, it probably would have been so much easier if they weren't ex-boyfriend and girlfriend...(crossposted for the Riverdale Reindeer Games event Theme Cupid: magic)
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 15
Kudos: 164
Collections: 6th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, Bughead Secret Santa, Home for the HoliDale





	A History of Love (yuletide kisses)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsRen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsRen/gifts).



**_Late November_ **

When Jughead flooed into Woolworth Building that housed the MACUSA, he had barely slept in weeks. Quashing the mild nausea and making minimal effort to straighten his shirt collar, he made it through security and headed down to the Department of Aurors.

The department was a flurry of activity and he had to duck more than once to avoid being hit in the head by an interdepartmental memo. Captain Keller’s office was towards the back, more a closet than a proper working space. Because Jughead was probably five minutes late for their meeting, he entered without knocking.

“You look like shit, Jones,” Kevin announced with his usual candor, not bothering to stand up to greet his best undercover auror. Now, typically Jughead wouldn’t have expected anything less from his boss, but when none other than Betty Cooper was sitting in one of the chairs facing Kevin’s desk, the comment didn’t roll off his back as easily as it would’ve had it just been the two of them.

If it had just been the two of them, he would’ve told Keller to get bent, and Keller would hit right back with ‘I plan to, tonight’.

“Well I just got back from the dragon enclosures in Romania,” Jughead quipped dryly, dropping into the chair next to Betty, “all that heat’s rough on the pores. Hello, Betty.”

“Auror Jones.” She replied primly, the very image of stiff politeness.

Well, that was fair. 

They hadn’t gone through training at the same time, and their assignments rarely afforded them the opportunity to do more than avoid eye contact as they passed each other in the maze of hallways. Even now, six years since he’d broken her heart and walked away.

Her hair seemed lighter since he last saw her, back in August, a paler shade of blonde, and despite the novelty of her wearing it down with its natural wave, he knew she had cut it shorter than it’d been during their teenaged years. 

Kevin cleared his throat, the knowing look in his eyes signalling to Jughead that he’d been caught staring at his ex-girlfriend. His superior officer wasted no time filling them in on the reason why they’d been brought here.

“A new psychotropic drug has begun spreading through the wizarding world, street name: Jingle Jangle.” Kevin slid twin folders across the desk before reclining back in his chair and watching their reactions as they flipped through them. “Two students at Stonewall have overdosed and it is the belief of the Department of Aurors that the academy is ground zero for the drug.”

Well that didn’t surprise him, but why were they both here? Jughead wondered as he flipped through the pages. They’d both attended Stonewall, any identity crafted for them would already be blown, unless...

“The cover story you two will need for the mission. It’s not ideal, but I need you two to play yourselves, more or less,” Kevin continued, reading his mind.

Jughead groaned at the realization they wanted him to teach Magical Literature and History while Myra Hollis, the usual professor, was due to take her maternity leave earlier than planned. Betty, it seemed, was to apprentice under Mrs Grundy, the elderly librarian who was set to retire next year. There was a sharp, indrawn breath from next to him and a moment later, Jughead discovered why.

There, tucked into the last paragraph of their backstories, was the addendum: _eloped in Las Vegas, October 13th_.

  
  


Betty’s world spun around her as she tried to make sense of what she’d just read. Shaking her head, she addressed Kevin. “Why do we have to be married? This directly affects our real lives, you know.” He wasn’t her case officer, but despite his rank, she considered him a friend.

A friend who knew full well that she and Jughead had a history.

“Because plenty of people remember when you two dated which gives you a believable foundation for having a whirlwind reconciliation and marriage. It also gives you two a convenient pretext for spending time around each other without arousing suspicion. You’re newly married and a posting that allows you to be together so you can, I don’t know, _canoodle_ , is too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“Canoodle.” Jughead repeated flatly.

Betty might have faith that Kevin wouldn’t send them into a situation that was likely to backfire operationally, but emotionally, psychologically? He looked entirely too smug for someone stirring a cauldron of dragon’s dung.

Chancing a glance at the wizard slouched next to her, Betty wondered how Jughead felt about playing house with her, the witch who he hadn’t thought would fit into his new life as a member of the secretive Serpents society in Wyvern house. Was he disgusted at the prospect of playing her husband? He was one of their best undercover aurors, so maybe it would be nothing for him to completely pretend. 

It had been six years and most of the hurt had faded, but there was always a twinge, and it came from that part of her that would always see Jughead as an amazing guy who understood her in a way no one had before, or had since. 

She could just say no, save herself the imminent heartache, but she’d worked too hard to get where she was now. 

She had moved on.

“Fine. When do we go in?”

* * *

**_Early December_ **

If Jughead didn’t already know what a fool he was for pushing Betty away, the disturbing ease with which most of the inhabitants of Stonewall Academy of Magical Studies accepted their cover story drove the point home. It was a special brand of torment to hold Betty close, to smell her light, familiar scent, and have her look up at him the way she used to.

_It’s not real, remember? You made sure of that._

The first major test of their cover came when Harold Humpbert, the ancient porter who had worked for Housekeeping for over a century, showed them to their chambers. The room was nice, don’t get him wrong, certainly spacious enough with an abundance of bookshelves, a set of comfortable chairs in front of a fireplace, and a bed. 

One queen-sized bed with a carved wooden headboard and footboard, and a plain cream-colored comforter. That they both had to share because the Elves on staff were terrible gossips.

This would be further than their relationship had gone at fifteen—sleeping in the same bed. By unspoken agreement, they decided to be adults about it. One after the other, they did their evening ablutions in the attached bathroom, changing into their pajamas, and when Jughead came out, Betty had chosen the left side of the bed, nearest to the window, and had her back to him.

“Night, Betts,” Jughead had murmured, even though it was just them and nobody was around to convince.

Silence had reigned for a full minute, and if it weren’t for how stiff she was holding herself, he would have thought she’d fallen asleep. “Night, Jug,” she said finally. 

It wasn’t the warm ‘Juggie’ of old, but it wasn’t the distant ‘Auror Jones’ either.

As far as auror investigations went, this was was shaping up to be laughably easy. The culprits dealing Jingle Jangle were neither particularly clever nor subtle. Within four days of arriving at Stonewall, after checking their chambers thoroughly for Extendable Ears or their variants and then casting an Imperturbable Charm, Jughead had sighed and met Betty’s eyes. 

“So...Professor Evernever?”

“Professor Evernever,” she chimed in at the same time as him. “And I guarantee you that his creepy daughter has something to do with it, too.” 

“Agreed.” 

There was a light in Betty’s eyes, an exuberant grin that he’d missed. “Being back at Stonewall with you, investigating something, it reminds me of when we first started dating, remember?” Before the sixth year re-sorting that took him from Crowbill into Wyvern, and into the Serpents and his family legacy. Before he decided to break up with her and spare her the repercussions of his growing entanglement with the then-mysterious and menacing Gargoyle King. 

The moment the words were out of his mouth, Betty’s smile fell and Jughead felt like a Dementor, sucking all the joy out of her. She looked away and cleared her throat.

“I’ll search the school for the hidden lab, you get the students to open up about how they’re getting the drugs?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

If he explained why he had broken up with her just after the start of sixth year, could she forgive him? Could they ever begin again?

  
Heavy snow pelted the narrow windowpanes as Betty worried about how comfortable she had grown with her current mission. Looking around the chambers she shared with Jughead, she groaned at her own stupidity. Was she truly this fickle, this pathetic? 

Being with Jughead, leaning into his touches and smiling at him, in the same corridors and rooms they had once done the same thing, only for real, was muddling her resolve. He’d come into the library during a break in his day, his habitual frown melting away upon spotting her, as if he’d been looking forward to seeing her face, and her heart would go thud-thud against her ribcage with hope.

It didn’t help that every single night they went to sleep on separate sides of the bed, and every single morning they woke up curled around one other. These nocturnal spooning sessions became one drop in a rapidly filling cauldron of things they never talked about. It happened, and they just looked away and moved on to get ready for their day. Just like the kisses. Mostly short, sweet pecks on the forehead, cheek, and sometimes the lips. 

_You’re undercover, Betty, it’s not real_ , she had to remind herself every time she touched her tingling lips afterward. She could be honest with herself and say the temptation was there to reach up and place her hand against the back of his beanie to hold him there, and kiss him for much longer, and much more thoroughly, his real feelings be damned.

But she didn’t.

Betty made a decent librarian: she could keep the books in order, her wandless spellwork was exemplary even if she couldn’t send dozens of books off to their rightful place simultaneously like Mrs Grundy, but, perhaps most importantly, she could keep the students contained with a stern tone and a glare.

A glare that seemed to have no effect on her “husband”, however.

“You’re looking a little harried there, Madam Jones,” Jughead’s dulcet tones sounded from the middle of the pile of essay scrolls on the table before him. Instead of wilting as her eyes flashed, his face broke out into a wide grin.

“Firstly, it’s Cooper-Jones. I decided to hyphenate, _Sweetie_. Secondly, my one joy is knowing that for all you professors make my life difficult, at least I’m not the one who has to read all those essays and grade them,” she quipped.

At least he had the grace to look chagrined at that.

“Half of them don’t even know how to structure an argument properly,” he groused, waving one long scroll in the air. “And this one sixth year, Martha Mason, her essay arguments are as insufferable as she is in class. She disagrees with me _all the time_ and doesn’t respect my authority during class, and, get this, she thinks that Freya Blight’s works are plodding and that Arcturus North should replace her as the shining example of mid-century realism! Have you ever heard something so pretentious?”

The snort of laughter escaped her in a very undignified manner, making Jughead stop mid-rant to gape at her. “Pretentious? Do you even hear yourself, Juggie?” Her face and stomach ached from the force of her giggles. “So Martha Mason is basically _you_. You’re getting a small taste of what you put all your professors through when you were a student!”

His scowl was downright adorable and it only set Betty off again.

* * *

**_The Middle of December_ **

“Is it supposed to take this long to... _oh_ ,” Betty gasped after a particular harsh pass of Jughead’s teeth, “create a hickey?”

In response, he closed his mouth back over that spot on her skin, now raw, and sucked. She squirmed in his lap and dug her nails into his bare biceps. He still had on his white undershirt and her flannel pajama top was unbuttoned and pushed off one shoulder to give Jughead a wider canvas to work. His beanie lay discarded on the bed and the wild mane of his hair tickling her jaw was luring her fingers into the black strands. Back then, he’d only taken the hat off for her. Consequently, she’d formed a strange possessiveness over his hair.

Finally, he lifted his head away from the column of her throat.

“Patience, Cooper,” he said with mock seriousness. “Hickeys are an art form, or hadn’t you heard? They require due diligence.”

When she rolled her eyes at him, Jughead only smirked. “Hey, who was worried the staff weren’t buying our cover?”

“I’m telling you, the eagle eyes of _Mademoiselle Blossom_ miss nothing when it comes to secrets and interpersonal relationships.” She reached over to the side table and grabbed the flask of Firewhiskey she’d smuggled into the school, taking a swig. “I could feel her trying to perform a wandless _Legilimens_ on me the other evening at dinner.”

They only had one week left before the Yule Ball, and the students would be heading home for the winter break the following day. The pressure was on to wrap up the investigation by then. Edgar Evernever, Potions and Alchemy professor (but of course), had already overplayed his hand by making more than one student an active participant in the distribution of the drug. Betty had narrowed down the location of his Super Secret Evil Lair of Drugs’N’Alchemy to three possibilities. Since two of their fellow students had died from an overdose of Jingle Jangle, it wasn’t hard for Jughead to get them to fess up who else was involved in the production and distribution. 

But Cheryl Blossom, the French professor with a razor sharp tongue, could blow their mission if she so much as gave voice to her suspicions about their ‘marriage’. Betty had gotten the brilliant idea to have Jughead leave a hickey on her neck for Cheryl to notice tomorrow at breakfast. Maybe then Cheryl would have a look on her face more sour than the half-moon of grapefruit on her plate.

That was her excuse and she was sticking to it.

“I believe you," Jughead said. "And if you must know, I’m trying to get the hickey in the shape of a crown, so—”

“—so I should stop interrupting the artist while he works?” she finished for him, arching one eyebrow.

Instead of waiting for an answer, she took another sip from the flask and then tilted her head back, exposing her neck again. The burn in her throat dissipated and she didn't think she could blame the warmth inside her solely on the alcohol, even if the Firewhiskey was helping to soften her prickly edges. Lips brushed against her neck again and strong arms wrapped around her back and hip, holding her steady. Betty pressed her thighs tightly together with every scrape of his teeth and tried not to moan.

She wished he would move his hands and touch her everywhere, she wished for his lips to follow, and to be free to straddle him so she could rub the throbbing part of her against his cock the way she wanted.

It seemed that not even six years could soften the utter need Jughead Jones caused in her.

The weather outside was legitimately cold, but Betty’s shapely bottom nudging against his erection and the hint of cleavage right in front of his face was keeping Jughead warm. He didn’t think she realized she was surreptitiously rocking in his lap and it was gratifying to have the incontrovertible proof that she still desired him. There was no way she didn’t feel him against her hip and she wasn’t leaping off him and grabbing her wand to hex him.

“It’s not just Cheryl,” Betty murmured, sounding breathless. “I think Bret’s been making googly eyes at me.”

Inwardly, Jughead groaned. If sharing a bed had been the first test of their cover, the presence of Betty’s ex-boyfriend had been the second. The douchebag had, for some reason, decided to go into teaching. Why, Jughead didn’t have the faintest idea. But Bret was the resident Magical Governments professor and what irritated Jughead more than anything was the fact that he was worried about said douchebag. That somehow, his presence here would ruin any chance Jughead had of getting back together with Betty.

Leaving the second peak of the basquiat crown, he leaned back to look up at Betty. “Googly eyes?” Was his tone too obviously sharp? He felt like it was. 

“Yeah, he keeps coming to the library and giving me that smarmy grin while he chats me up.” Betty contorted her face into a frankly horrific but accurate impression of Bret’s ‘smarmy grin’.

“Merlin’s beard, I get it! You can stop that now, thanks.” Jughead groaned while Betty snickered at his expense.

He exhaled, allowing himself the pretense of a moment to think. “Alright, give me a drink.” He tipped his head back as Betty raised the flask to his mouth and poured the liquid fire down his throat. “Fuck!” he hissed as the burn dissipated. And then she was there, brushing a thumb over his bottom lip. When his eyes met her green ones, Jughead tried to pretend that the clutch of air from his lungs was due to the alcohol, not her.

Very few people ever truly saw Betty Cooper for who she was. That they tended to impose their own stereotypes onto her had come in handy for her as an Auror, but he didn’t imagine it made things easy for her on a personal level. Even he had been guilty of it in the end, allowing his own insecurities to cloud what they’d had. In hindsight, he’d been a fool to walk away from her, a fool to think it had been for her own good.

Betty’s hair shone in the firelight and even in the flickering shadows, her pupils were wide and Jughead didn’t think he would be brave enough to know whether it was from desire or just the alcohol.

“Give me another ten minutes and I’ll make the crown even bigger,” he promised her.

“Now who’s taking this too seriously?” she drawled as he bent back over the creamy, partially marred column of her neck.

“It’s Bret, you’ve got to make a point blatant enough to whack him over the head with.”

* * *

_**Yule Ball** _

As soon as they re-entered their chambers, Jughead was angrily yanking his tie loose. The dress robes were constricting him so he shrugged out of them and tossed them in the direction of the bed. Betty stormed in shortly after him, her heels echoing off the floor, and stood in the center of the room with her hands on her hips.

“What the hell is your problem?”

The Great Hall had been decked out tonight for the Yule Ball—the lights dimmed and hundreds of candles floating overhead. Tables along the wall had been decorated with holly and ivy, the scent of oranges and cloves drifting across the room. Not as good as when Betty had been in charge of the decorating committee back in the day, but a decent enough attempt.

Jughead had barely been able to take his eyes off her tonight, what with the ethereal-looking silver dress robes she was wearing. They’d slow danced in the candlelight, their eyes saying all the things they hadn’t given voice to. And then he’d returned from the hot cider table with drinks for Betty and him, only to see her laughing at something Bret was saying. 

The jealousy had burned through his gut like Firewhiskey, hot and deep.

“You didn’t have to leave early, you know? You could’ve stayed at the Ball and flirt with Bret some more,” he bit out.

He knew it was ridiculous, that he had no chauvinistic claim on her, but the reaction had been there and it only spurred him on to come clean to Betty about his feelings, soon as they wouldn’t negatively impact the mission. 

Betty stood there and glared at him as he slouched in one of the chairs by the fire. Finally she scoffed and stomped around the room with her wand out, performing the checks he should have the moment he entered. He grimaced at the oversight. 

“It’s called being polite and friendly with your coworkers, Jug. Something you wouldn’t know how to do,” she bit back from somewhere in the vicinity of their closet.

“You were touching his arm and _simpering_ , Betts. Looked like you wanted to do more than be polite with him.”

Once she was back in front of him, Betty informed him in the American Sign Language they’d been trained in, that someone was listening in on them. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He watched her, waiting to take cues from her about how to handle this.

“What, exactly, is it you think I want to do with Bret?” Betty asked him with a dangerous glint in her eyes. Reaching behind her back, she tugged on the ties holding her dress together and just like that, her robes slid off her shoulders and body, pooling around her feet.

Jughead scarcely breathed. 

She was resplendent in green and black, the colors of Wyvern House: the bustier, the lace panties with partially sheer side panels, the garter belt that held up sheer black stockings. He allowed himself the long, slow look back up her body. When he met her eyes, electricity zinged between them. 

There was a subtle sway in her hips as she stepped closer, and then knelt in between his spread thighs.

“Betts,” he warned her. _We don’t have to do this, you don’t have to do this, even if it helps our cover_ , he wanted to say, but he couldn’t.

There was only the defiant arch of one eyebrow as she slid her hands over his thighs, palming him through the black material of his trousers.

“Do you think I want to suck his cock?” Betty asked softly, lowering his zipper and reaching through the opening in his boxers for his erection. He was already hard, all the blood in his body having rushed south the moment green lace came into sight.

“Well, any wizard would be so fortunate to have his cock sucked by you,” Jughead croaked.

Betty, the minx, smirked. “Damn straight.” He felt the heat of her breath, and twitched, right before she enveloped him in her mouth.

His head hit the back of the chair and Jughead fought to open his eyes, fought the clench of pleasure in his lower belly, to be able to watch as she licked a stripe up the underside of his cock and swirled her tongue over the head.

His breath was so noisy in the silence of the room, and above the crackling of the fire, he could also hear the wet sounds as she began to bob her head up and down. Her mouth was warm, and tight, and there was no way Jughead would last much longer if she kept it up.

As if reading his mind, Betty slowed, opening her eyes and staring right at him as she let his cock go with a _pop_. Jughead exhaled and shook his head, chuckling at the insouciant smile she was giving him.

“You look way too satisfied for the cat who did not get the cream, so to speak.”

Betty tilted her head, shrugging as she pushed against his thighs for leverage to stand back up. “So give it to me, then,” she dared him, turning to stroll towards the bed. 

Jughead was quick as he unsheathed his wand and pointed it at her, uttering the spell under his breath. He was rewarded with a yelp from Betty as her panties went flying off her body.

Over her shoulder she gave him an unamused glare, and he replied with an unrepentant grin.

 _**  
  
  
** _As she crawled onto the bed, sans panties, Betty hoped whomever was listening was enjoying the show. Turning onto her back, she shivered at the intensity in Jughead’s eyes, nearly black in the shadows of the room. Slowly, purposefully, he slid his suspenders off his shoulders and the sinews in his forearms and hands flexed as he unbuttoned and removed his white shirt. Methodically, the rest of his clothes were shucked until he was completely naked, yet still hard for her.

Betty was too turned on to be embarrassed by how slick she already was for him.

She tried, for the hundredth time since this mission began, to tell herself that none of this was real; playing a married couple was simply a hardship they had to endure in order to stop a drug smuggling operation. But deep down she knew that line had become hopelessly blurred. 

Here she was, powerless and ensnared by his eyes as he slid on top of her, hard and heavy. Their kiss could never be mistaken for something tender, not with the heat of her anger as she bit down on his bottom lip. Jughead curled her hair around his fist and tugged.

They danced on the fine line between pleasure and pain, the harsh saw of their breathing filling the room as they writhed their barely clothed bodies together. Betty purposefully did not allow herself to think as she curled a not-so-gentle hand around his erection and brought it to her entrance. 

The stretch and the slight burn felt so good. She dug her fingernails into the muscles that bunched in his back as he began to move in her. Jughead gave her no time to get used to him, instead establishing a punishing rhythm that had her drawing her knees up and clenching her lower body as she began the relentless climb.

Jughead clearly knew exactly what he was doing, the asshole, when he made sure to rotate his hips during every downstroke, grinding the base of his cock against her clit. Even after all these years, he was still the one who knew her body the best. Betty couldn’t stop the broken moan that escaped her throat, nor the way she clamped down around him, her mind going blank as she instinctively met his every thrust.

“Look at me,” he grunted.

In rebellion, she kept her eyes tightly shut, focused on nothing but the climb. _This is just a fuck, this means nothing, this is just a fuck_ , she chanted in her head even as the sharp, sweet bloom of heat inside her began to engulf her like wildfire.

“Look at me!” A thousand pinpricks of pleasure and pain in her scalp had her eyes blinking partially open at the same time he pinned her arms and shoulders to the mattress with half his weight on his forearms. If she’d thought the look in his eyes was intense before, it was nothing compared to now.

Not nothing, everything. 

The tension inside her reached a breaking point and Betty snapped, toes curling and limbs jerking in both agony and ecstasy. “Oh, oh! Jug- don’t stop pleasedontstop,” she cried inches from his lips, eyes still open but unseeing. She dug her nails deeper into his back, and then his ass. _Fuck me, take me, make me yours_ , she thought.

Maybe she had actually said those words out loud. Jughead let out a shuddering moan of his own as he followed her over the edge, their bodies straining inelegantly against one another until every last spasm was spent.

Even now, with her body uncontrollably trembling and his cock softening inside her, Betty couldn’t bear to think of either the past or the future. 

Not with Jughead gently caressing her cheek with his thumb. Not with him murmuring sweet words against her forehead. This, the safety she felt right now in his arms- as if all the bad in the world couldn’t get past him? That was an illusion, wasn’t it?

You don’t love him anymore, she told herself.

Even as she thought it, there was another voice, a quieter one, whispering at the back of her head.

_Liar,_ it said.

* * *

_**Midwinter** _

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.”

“ _Murgphf_?”

Betty’s head pounded as she tried to blink away the confusion. Once she realized she was pressed up against Jughead’s body, only their past nocturnal snuggling experiences kept her from jackknifing away from him. Her nose itched, though, and she chose to prioritize that. Or tried to, anyway. There was a loud clang and she was quickly brought back to her original position by the manacles keeping her bound to…

“Ugh...really? Tell me this is Wendy Weiss.” They were chained to the pipes in one of the decripit rooms in a closed-off basement corridor.

“Afraid not.”

“Those psycho bastards. It’s _Yule_!”

Jughead was sitting next to her, with his back right up against the stone wall, and his handcuffs were looped widely through the pipes. Oddly enough, Betty’s own were in the middle of his—her right arm leading underneath his left and her left arm on top of it. It was a complication designed specifically to screw with them.

“Edgar?” She could guess the answer.

“Evelyn, actually. She must’ve used the Imperius curse on someone in the kitchens and had them slip something into our dinner,” Jughead drawled, looking for all the world like he was perfectly calm. “Knocked us out long enough to chain us up and move our wands clear across the room.” Betty followed his stare and, sure enough, their wands were sitting innocuously on top of the empty supply cabinet, mocking them.

A glass box edged in some kind of metal encased the wands, blocking any attempt they could make at summoning them with the wandless magic they’d been trained in.

Jughead let out a dramatic sigh and went back to glaring at the wall directly above the cabinet. 

“Stop fantasizing about hexes and help me find a way to get out of these manacles,” Betty muttered, rolling her eyes before looking the cuffs over for weak points she could exploit.

“I already thought of a way to get out of the manacles, I just had to wait for you to wake up so you could tell me you had one of your trusty bobby pins on you, Cooper.”

“You know I do, Jones.” Honestly, she was insulted he even had to wonder. “Solving a problem the No-maj way. My, my, what would Alice Cooper say if she could see me now?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, I know she’s your mother and all, but _fuck Alice_.”

Betty let out an inelegant snort of laughter. Her amusement lasted all of five seconds before she remembered where said trusty bobby pin was hidden.

Her groan must have been audible because Jughead turned to her with a frown. “What?”

Sitting up a bit straighter, she twisted her body to the side so she could get up on her knees, nearly facing him on the unforgiving concrete ground. 

“I smuggled two pins on my body because I was going to wear my hair down, just in case I needed it,” she informed him. “They’re on my right bra cup.” There. She clenched her jaw and awaited his reaction. To his credit, Jughead only raised his eyebrows at her, lips twisting with undisguised mirth. He also put two and two together lightning fast.

“Well, time’s a-wasting, Betts. The quicker you get over here, the more time we’ll have to cut their villain monologue short.” As much as he was able, Jughead reclined against the wall and spread his legs a bit wider as if issuing an invitation. 

Betty rolled her eyes heavenward but swung her leg over to straddle him. With their arms and chains positioned the way they were, Jughead was able to duck his head so she had enough give from her own chains to lift her left arm over his head. Her right arm, however, remained curled in between his bicep and ribcage. In effect, she was hugging him close.

There was an insufferable grin on Jughead’s face as he turned his attention to the task at hand. Betty tried best as she could to calm her racing heartbeat, absolutely sure he would feel it the second he got close enough. 

He began to nuzzle at the neckline of her blouse, using his teeth to tug the first two buttons loose. With his mouth to help, Betty shrugged until her shoulder was freed and her bra was exposed.

“The things you have been forced to do for the sake of this mission,” she mused, albeit bitterly.

He lifted his head and frowned at her. “Back then," he paused to put his thoughts in order. "I thought that by cutting you out of my life I wouldn’t drag you down. It wasn’t fair to you and I can’t take back what I did, Betts. Nobody’s going to give me a Time Turner to do that. But I’ve regretted that decision ever since and you have every right to hate me.”

“I don’t actually hate you, Jug. What I feel for you is far worse,” she told him. Now was as good a time to, well, make a clean breast of it.

“Worse?”

“I don’t think I ever stopped loving you, Jughead Jones,” she admitted, feeling lighter once the words were out of her mouth.

“And if I told you I’ve always loved you, Betty Cooper, would that still be worse?” Jughead asked, beseechingly.

Her heart squeezed and she inhaled sharply, scarcely daring to let the precious air out of her lungs as she searched his eyes for the truth she had been too scared to hope for. 

“So, last night wasn’t a lie?”

“No. Never, not when it comes to you.”

This time, when she kissed him tenderly, she tasted salt.

__

“Hey, Edgar.” Jughead put some swagger in his step as he strolled into the lab. “Remember us?”

It was comical, the way the man’s head whipped around and his eyes widened. Behind him were tables full of simmering potions that had a familiar candy-red shade. Jingle Jangle in its liquid form. Evidence.

“THERE’S NO WAY!” Evelyn shrieked only to go flying into the wall as Betty slid in behind Jughead and hit the girl—no, _woman_ with a particularly impressive Bat Bogey Hex.

“Oh, shut up, Evelyn,” Betty drawled at the crumpled form before looking back over her shoulder at him with a grin. Merlin, he loved this woman.

“Have I told you how sexy you look when you hex people, babe?”

“Not lately, but a witch could always stand to hear that more often,” she said with a wink.

Jughead didn’t even look at Edgar when he pointed his wand and hit the man with a Stunning Spell.

* * *

_**Six Years Ago** _

“Wooden pole?? If you think I’m a wooden pole when you kiss me, let’s see how _you_ like being a wooden pole!!” Betty fumed as she stomped through the corridor outside the Crowbill common room. Bret’s indignant shrieks echoed in her ears, but the grim satisfaction from that was not enough to erase the humiliation she felt. It had been Donna Sweett, of course. She should have known.

Deep down, she _had_ known.

Betty had just wanted to surprise her new boyfriend by staying at Stonewall over the winter break. She’d felt so mature lying to her parents when she’d owled them with a carefully crafted excuse about needing to study to improve her Arithmancy marks next term. Which wasn’t a lie, actually, since she did need to improve in that particular subject. Mostly, she’d loved the surprised looks on certain classmates’ faces. Surprise that she, perfect sweet Betty Cooper, would be spending Christmas at school with her boyfriend when there was minimal adult supervision. 

But instead of seeming happy about it when she told him, Bret had frowned and become short tempered. Just because he was staying at Stonewall didn’t mean he had the time to give her all the attention she was constantly demanding, he’d muttered without looking at her. Betty would admit to being willfully blind at times, but she wasn’t stupid. And so tonight, when she’d shown up at the party in Crowbill tower and saw him exploring Donna’s tonsils, she had known there was no point trying to keep up the farce.

Betty hated to make a scene, but she was pretty sure everyone had heard their argument in the corner. Then Bret had made that awful wooden stick comment while his friends laughed. Unable to think of an appropriately eviscerating insult, she had whipped out her wand and hissed “ _Petrificus Totalus_!”. It slammed Bret face down onto the floor and made his body…well…stiff as a board. 

His friends laughed at him, too, at least there had been that. She would have preferred to wait and get her revenge eventually by making him regret treating her that way. Or at the very least, she wished she had raised her voice and announced to the entire common room that he kissed like a flesh-eating slug.

The shiny garlands that lined the corridors of the stately academy failed to soften her anger; even the fragrant winter bouquets—green pine and red poinsettia—couldn’t get her back in the Christmas spirit. While she stood on the first step and waited for it to descend along the staircase, Betty contemplated her sorry romantic history. 

Last summer, she’d been tipsy and asked Archie, her best friend, to show her how to kiss properly. After all, wasn’t that the sort of things boys liked to hear? That they were teaching a girl something, puffing their egos up. According to Veronica, that was the best way to reduce boys to putty in your hands. But he’d just refused to look her in the eye and stammered something about her being ‘too perfect’ before fleeing his own basement.

Then Bret had sat across from her at the Otterpat table with a wink and Betty had figured, why not? Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised that it turned out so badly when she’d only started dating Bret because she wanted to change her classmates’ perception of her.

The step jolted beneath her as it locked into place and that was when Betty realized that, in her pique, she had made it all the way to the basement. Groaning, she wandered into the dark, barely lit corridor. She couldn’t even see how long it was. The floor, walls, and ceiling were all stone and probably more ancient than she could guess. No paintings decorated it save for one, which depicted a dozing warrior guarding a great gate. Frustration welled up in her. “FUCK MERLIN AND THE BROOM HE RODE IN ON!” She shouted, relishing in the sound of her voice echoing off the stone. 

The guard in the painting startled awake with a sputter as he leapt to his feet. “I do declare…You! Girl! No students or staff past this point! You don’t want to see what kind of curse will repel you if you try.” He shook a gloved finger at her

She raised her chin at him. “Well I do declare that I am completely done with boys!” She spat back at the painting. “I should place a curse on myself to repel them.”

A voice interrupted the gobsmacked guard. “Well, that’s a shame.”

Betty spun around and gasped when she saw none other than Jughead Jones, one of the fourth year Prefects from Crowbill, standing there. He had on a cerulean sweater that had to be new since she had never seen it on him before, the shade making his blue eyes jump out even more. “What?”

“If that bit about you giving up on boys is true, that’s a shame,” he said earnestly, hands stuffed in his pants pockets and scuffing his shoes against the stone floor. She wasn’t sure when he had become so…attractive? Maybe it had to do with him growing his hair out, to the point where an errant curl kept escaping his crown beanie and…she couldn’t identify exactly what else. He did have a rather pretty face.

Betty viciously squashed that line of thought— the last thing she needed to do was start crushing on someone else.

“But seriously though, are you okay? I saw you storming down all those stairs and thought I’d check on you.” Jughead jerked his chin in the direction he’d just come. 

“I think I broke up with Bret.”

“Really? I mean…isn’t that the sort of thing you’d be certain of if you did the breaking up?”

Betty shrugged glumly. “I stayed here over the break to spend time with him and it turned out he was going to spend his time with Donna. So I hexed him.” 

She watched the reactions flit across Jughead’s face: first a stony facade, followed by nostrils flaring in anger, and then finally a bark of laughter that bubbled out of him. He and Bret were in the same house and there was definitely no love lost between the two boys. “I wish I could’ve seen that.”

Come to think of it, the sneering way Bret always called him ‘Forsythe’ should have been a warning sign, too. Betty shrugged.

“Ah, well, I don’t think he’s going to want to date me after that. Not that I still want to date him,” she stumbled to add. “I do have a spine, you know.”

“I never said you didn’t.” It was, she decided, completely unfair of Jughead to look so genuinely insulted at that. 

“I know you didn’t. But pretty much everyone else does—”

“—Well, not anymore,” he pointed out slyly.

“I knew Bret was a creep when I started dating him,” she admitted. “Stupid, I know.” She didn’t have the faintest clue why she was admitting this to Jughead while they stood in the basement.

“It’s not stupid,” he insisted. His quiet vehemence surprised and pleased her.

“Anyways, enough about my drama. Why are you staying here over Christmas this year?”

He shrugged. “My Dad’s been drinking again, so my mom took Jellybean with her to Toledo.”

“And you didn’t want to go with them?”

“I asked. She said I’d probably be better off staying here.”

“That’s cruel.”

“That’s life.”

“It shouldn’t be!” she said hotly. “No offense, Juggie, I know they’re your parents but...fuck them.”

“Betty Cooper swearing? My, my, what would Alice Cooper think?” Jughead teased her with a smirk. She liked that he didn’t seem shocked by what she’d just said.

“Fuck her, too!”

“You know, Betts, I think you’re getting the hang of the holiday spirit here.”

Even though they were smiling, the conversation waned and she became unbearably aware of the weird sudden tension between them. Jughead stared at her with that little frown that told her he was contemplating his next sentence.

“Would you like to spend the next Eldervair weekend together? Headmaster Weatherbee said to stay in groups because of the Gargoyle attacks.”

“Sure!” she said breathlessly. 

“Great. Great…uh, I guess I’m going to head back to my common room. See if they've sorted Bret out yet.”

“Me too. I don’t even know how I made it all the way down here. Otterpat tower is on the opposite end of the castle.”

No sooner had they tried to make their way back to the staircase than they found themselves frozen in place, unable to step underneath the stone archway.

“What the—”

A sigh came from the boy next to her. “Betts.”

She turned only to see Jughead staring above them. Following his line of sight, she spotted the green plant with white berries and her eyes widened.

“Mistletoe?”

“Yep. Wendy Weiss?”

Wendolyn Weiss was the patron ghost for Otterpat House and her pranks tended to be romantic in nature. In other words, she tended to make a big mess for the living residents in the school.

“Probably.”

"Professor Chipping will be doing his rounds before long. He can free us then," Jughead told her, clearly wanting to reassure her.

Betty should say nothing, she should wait for Professor Chipping, but...

"We could just kiss ourselves free."

Even in the dim light she could spot the blush on his cheeks. "You shouldn't have to be forced to kiss someone you don't want to, Betty."

"I want to. I mean...if you also want to, Jug. Consent is a two-way street, after a—"

She never got to finish that thought because he was there, cupping her face and kissing her with all his pent up emotions. The kiss continued long after they were both free.

* * *

_**Now** _

Other Aurors had arrived to secure the evidence and take in the Evernevers. All there was left was for Jughead and Betty to pack up their belongings and head home. He stood before Betty with his hands loosely clasped behind his back.

"Kevin mentioned something about a wizarding bank president being murdered in San Francisco," Betty said, biting her lip as she stepped closer to him.

Jughead hummed, also taking a step closer. “Sounds like another mystery for us to solve, if you’re up for it.” 

“You know I am.”


End file.
